Faltering Flight to Freedom
by FreeDaChickens
Summary: Sirius knew he would eventually leave his parents' house. He hadn't figured he would be thrown out, wounded and bloody. But such is life. MWPP.


**A/N**: A short ficlet that I've been wanting to write for awhile. I'll be back to updating DH soon, don't worry.

**Disclaimer**: J.K. Rowling owns everything except the plot, which is mine, and the Marauders' personalities, which I have taken liberal interpretations of.

Enjoy!

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He should have expected it. He had known it would come eventually, he had guessed it, but he still wasn't expecting it.

_But who really expects getting thrown out of their house violently after being cursed by their own mother?_ Sirius thought ruefully.

He really was getting dizzy, he supposed he should sit down before he – too late. He collapsed onto the grass, trunk abandoned to his side.

The blood was starting to soak through his shirt. He had almost dodged the second curse, couldn't he have moved just a little further? It certainly would have improved his situation immensely. It fucking _hurt_ whenever he did anything. Including breathe.

He had realised something was wrong – or at least more wrong than usual – when his mother – _dear old mum_, he though sarcastically – had thundered up to the stairs to his room demanding to know what he thought he was doing by getting his name in the _Daily Prophet_ for being on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He hadn't realised the full extent of his mother's fury.

He had realised it quickly, though, when the first cutting curse missed him my millimetres. He had gotten lucky that time. He hadn't gotten lucky for the next four curses shot at him. He grinned viciously as he remembered the jinx he had returned at his mother – a special Marauder secret, a painful combination of a powerful itching hex and the _Furnunculus_ spell.

A sudden wave of nausea made him return to the situation at hand. He was stuck a few blocks away from Grimmauld Place, attempting to walk to the Potters', with only a wand that he couldn't legally use and a school trunk full of old parchment, Marauder's plans, and books. He had a broom, but he didn't think he could do as much as mount it without falling over. And he was surrounded by Muggles. Perfect.

A sudden idea struck him as he remembered an article he had read several weeks ago in the _Prophet_, something about a bus? The 'Night Bus' or something? Something struck him as wrong, but he ignored that instinct as he eagerly wracked his brain, trying to remember how to summon it. Something to do with your hand?

Sirius abruptly cursed as he realised what his thought before was. The article was about how it had been shut down because it didn't meet Ministry regulations. Something about reckless driving. _Stupid Ministry_, he though savagely, adding on several choice adjectives.

He was stuck here and was slowly bleeding to death. Sirius knew he was being melodramatic – he wasn't going to die, he was only bleeding – but it was still awfully painful.

Well, if he was going to die, Sirius thought sardonically, then he was going to make it a little farther from his beloved family first.

He unsteadily rose to his feet before glaring at his trunk. He could barely walk, much less carry a trunk. He debated leaving it behind but couldn't bear to part with all the projects he had stored in there. That was Marauder property, and damn if he wasn't going to at least try and get it to the rest of them.

Deciding it was close life and death situation, after all, James would probably kill him if he lost it, he took his wand out of his back pocket. Glancing stealthily around to make sure no Muggles were watching, he muttered a spell to lighten his trunk. Lifting it experimentally, he was pleased to find it was much lighter. Pulling it behind him, he went on his way.

He made it several steps before nearly falling again. Grimacing at the near-sacrilegiousness of it, he shuffled through his trunk until he found his broom and used it as a crutch. It was much easier going, though, he admitted it to himself. It still hurt, seeing his top-of-the-line Comet being used as a mere prop.

He hobbled forward, carefully trying not to jar his torso too much. If he concentrated, he could almost imagine something sharp poking the inside of stomach. He tried not to concentrate.

He needed a plan. There was no way he could walk all the way to the Potters' house; even if he wasn't bleeding and dizzy, it was still much too long to walk.

Damn. He should have thought it out more carefully before leaving. Not that he would have stayed much longer anyway, but returning would be impossible now. In retrospect, yelling something along the lines of "Even staying in a city completely surrounded by squibs and Muggles without my wand would be better than staying with a Dark, inbred family. At least Muggles don't try to kiss the arse of some maniac trying to control the world!" What was that expression Remus used about burning bridges?

It was too late to think about that now. He was nearly at the end of the street, and he thought there was a train station about a quarter-mile away. If he could make it there, then he should be fine. Sirius snorted, if the Quidditch team could see him now! They were always complaining about his seeming-endless energy, and now he was reduced to doubting his ability to walk a quarter-mile.

With renewed determination he set out again. He entertained himself by watching the houses he was slowly passing. They all looked very similar – didn't Muggles have any sense of creativity? – but occasionally someone would have something interesting in their lawn. So far, Sirius had seen two fluorescent pink flamingos, one giant inflatable porcupine that Sirius had stared at incredulously for several seconds before convincing himself that no, he wasn't hallucinating yet, along with several decidedly scary looking gnomes.

His method of distraction wasn't working very well and only lasted for one street before he was once again left to trying to avoid thinking about his stomach. He could definitely feel something painful down there. He had no doubt, however, that Mrs. Potter couldn't fix him up pretty quickly though.

Thinking of the Potters, he decided to try his mirror again. The two-way mirror was great for school when neither was ever very far away from it, but James appeared to leave it in his room most of the time when he was at home while he was elsewhere.

He sat down to rummage through his trunk until he found it, nestled inside of a school robe. He pulled it out and called softly into the cloudy surface, "James." Nothing happened. Slightly louder, "James." It stayed stubbornly blank. Nearly yelling now, "James!"

When there was still no response, he carefully set the mirror back in his trunk. He couldn't call much louder without alerting the Muggles around him. He'd just have to keep walking. It would be so much easier if he didn't have to lug his trunk around, he could just become Padfoot run the rest of the way there. _If Remus were here, he'd be quoting again_, Sirius thought wryly. _Something about wishes and fishes now_. Remus had some of the strangest quotes. All Muggle, of course.

He didn't want to risk turning into Padfoot anyway, he really didn't want to know what that'd to his internal organs. It normally wasn't painful to become his Animagus, but he wasn't sure what would happen now.

He pushed himself off the ground and using his makeshift-crutch walked forward – or rather, he tried to walk forward. He cursed loudly as his legs crumpled, his crutch fell away, and the ground came up very fast to meet him. He hit it with an 'oomph.'

Trying to suppress his rising feelings of hysteria at his situation – of course he could walk! Why shouldn't he be able to walk? – he tried to get up again. The world swam before his eyes and he bit his lip hard to keep from vomiting.

He decided that it would be in his best interests to lay down for a second. He'd get up immediately after. He was just feeling . . . a little tired. Nothing major. He leaned against his trunk and slowly began to nod off, before jerking awake.

He couldn't go to sleep; he had to get to James' house! Wasn't there something dangerous about falling asleep while bleeding anyway? He couldn't think straight, but he had to get to the Potters'. He'd be safe there. Everyone else was there, the Potters' house was safer for Remus during the full moon, and Peter would be over there with Remus.

He had told James not to worry about him, after James had asked him over to his house. He would be fine at his parents' place for a couple days. He just had to stay with them for awhile; his mum had insisted on it. He had no idea the article would come out, though, and didn't think his mum would be that angry about it anyway. Shouldn't she be resigned to it already, having a Light son in Gryffindor? Apparently not.

He remembered when the photographer had visited; it had been in the middle of Quidditch season . . .

"_Potter, you're needed with your team! Get down here!" Evans yelled at the Captain from the ground._

_James looked up, startled. Sirius laughed to himself at James' look, when had Lily ever _wanted_ to see him? He flew down quickly after James' retreating broom, anxious to see what the occasion was._

"_What's happening, Evans?" Sirius called down, "Have you finally realised your all-consuming love for Jamsie-boy here?"_

_Scowling at Sirius, Lily replied, "No. There's a group of reporters up at the castle that want to see all the Quidditch teams. In case you've forgotten, you're the head of one."_

"_No, Evans, I haven't quite forgotten yet," James said before adding, genuinely curious, "Why'd they send you?"_

"_I was with Greg Hooper --" James scowled at the thought of Lily's boyfriend, currently a beater on Hufflepuff's team, "—when the team was called down. They saw me with him, so they sent me to get you all." Huffing with the indignity of having to serve as message, to Potter no less, she glared at the assembled team._

"_So where are we supposed to go to?" Sirius asked, smirking slightly at Lily's expression._

"_The Great Hall. I've told you your message, now I'm leaving." Lily turned on her heel and left, oblivious to the amused looks the team was exchanging._

Sirius leaned slowly back on his trunk, thinking back to that warm fall day. He stayed like that for several minutes, before attempting to turn onto his side to get more comfortable. The pain from an openly bleeding gash coming in contact with the edge of his trunk woke him quite effectively.

Pale-faced and swearing with pain, Sirius forced himself to get up. Abandoning all thoughts of clear, blue skies and Quidditch games, he took several halting steps, pulling his light-weight trunk behind him. Struggling to continue, he bit his lip to overcome the pain that just walking was giving him.

He felt like he was drunk – barely able to stand up, staggering around, feeling nauseous, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. However, despite the few times he had been drunk, with rather unpleasant results, he might add, he had never been wounded or seriously bleeding.

He had made it all of ten steps before his legs gave out. Again landing hard on the ground, Sirius grunted with the pain before giving up and laying back down.

He hadn't actually thought he was going to die before now. He had known he was in pain and bleeding, but he had never considered the possibility he wouldn't be able to get to the Potters' house. The train station was less than a quarter-mile off, for Merlin's sake, but he was fairly certain now, that he couldn't walk more than a few feet.

Merlin's beard, if only he could think! His thoughts were all fuzzy, he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, and fuck, did he hurt. He, once again, reached toward his trunk, desperate now to talk to James.

Opening his trunk was a difficult task. It required several painful twists, but several gasps and one lip bloody from biting it later, the trunk was open. He grabbed the mirror and yelled, "James!" There was no response, the mirror stayed stubbornly blank. Forcibly staying calm, he called again, "James, you bloody wanker! Merlin, just answer! Stupid bastard, where the hell are you?" Nearly crying, he chanted, "James! James! James, James . . ." he trailed off, desperately staring at the mirror, trying to see something, anything. After several moments of waiting, he abruptly threw the mirror back into his trunk. Useless. Bloody useless.

He was going to die. He was stuck in the middle of Muggle London in the middle of the night surrounded by no one he knew with a broom he couldn't ride, a wand he couldn't use legally but had anyway, a small criminal record from the aforementioned wand usage, and a lightened school trunk. He was going to die.

Sirius had joked about dying before with the Marauders and occasionally they seriously talked about it, usually in relation to the war. They had all decided that, if they had to, they'd die for the Light side. Sirius, however, had never considered he would be dying on a Muggle street in the middle of London before even seeing a battle. He was supposed to be in the middle of a duel, protecting the ones he loved when he died. Not on a street in Muggle London. And yet, somehow, here he was. Dying.

He struggled to sit up, before wincing and easing himself back down. There was one option he hadn't considered yet. Apparition. It wasn't legal, and he didn't exactly know how to do it, but it was an option. He had overheard his parents teaching Reggie how to do it earlier before they had kicked Sirius out. Reggie wasn't of age yet, but they thought he should know. Of course, they had neglected their eldest born, Sirius, thinking him wasted on the Light side.

What was it, determination and destination? All he had to be was determined he'd get to his destination and he would? He certainly hoped so. He'd heard horror stories about splinching before, and he had no desire to join their ranks. Not that he'd live if he was splinched. Now, with that gruesome thought lingering, if only he could think straight long enough to block out the pain and concentrate on the Potters' mansion . . .

_Think, Sirius, think. It's your only option left, Paddy old boy_, he imagined James saying. _Just concentrate_. But, wait, didn't the Potters' house have Anti-Apparition wards on it for safety? Sirius tried to remember everything James' had ever said about his house before. If only his head didn't feel so fuzzy; he couldn't think.

He remembered when James' had talked about it; it was the same day they had starting learning about Anti-Apparition wards in Defence Against the Dark Arts. What had he said? Something about wards over his property but not their gate? Yes, that was it. They had wards but only over their property.

Concentrating as hard as he could, picturing the area in front of the Potters' gate in his mind, he readied his wand for the movement. Still concentrating as hard as he could, he closed his eyes, then performed the incantation.

He felt like he was being squeezed through a tube and then stretched apart. Sirius tried to stay concentrated on the Potters' gate to quell the rising doubts he had that this was not working. _James in front of his gate. James. Gate. James. Gate . . ._

Several minutes later, he fell, for a third time, on the ground. Sending a quick prayer to whomever might be watching over him that he had done it right, Sirius opened his eyes and glanced up.

Ahead of him was the imposing Potters' front gate leading up to their front door. Sirius could've cried with relief. Glancing down at his body, he noted all four extremities properly attached, if blood soaked. He would live.

The knowledge that he was almost safe the only thing pushing him on, he painfully got up. _Fuck, I hurt._ The only thing worse than dying alone on a street was dying within sight of safety.

He grabbed his broom, thankful his stuff had come with him, he hobbled toward the gate. He pushed it open, relieved that it didn't seem to be locked. As he stumbled agonizingly slowly up the lane, he was struck with a terrible thought. What if the Potters' weren't here? What if they had left? What if they found him, tomorrow morning, dead on their front door? Trying to quell his rising hysteria, he staggered the best he could to their porch.

Twenty feet past the gate, he was cursing the Potters' for having such a long drive. They didn't need it, after all, it was a Muggle invention, what were the Potters' going to put on it? Their brooms? Gasping in sudden pain, Sirius was, from then on, reduced to concentrating one moving one foot in front of the other, eyes continually fixed on his goal.

He was about fifty feet away. Just keep walking. Right foot. Left foot. Don't throw up. Don't fall over. Merlin, please don't fall over again.

It was closer to twenty five feet now. He was over halfway there. Please don't throw up. He hated throwing up. He was going to fall any second now. He abandoned his trunk, even its light weight was straining his cuts. They hurt. Badly.

He couldn't be more than ten feet. Don't fall. Left foot. Right foot. Please don't fall. He wasn't sure he could get up again if he did.

Five feet from the porch, he fell. He glared at the walkway. He would not crawl. Sirius Orion Black _did not_ crawl. He staggered to his feet, nearly cracking his broom in the process. He winced at the splintering noise. He would make it. Right foot. Left foot.

Four feet, now. Three feet. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. He was on the stairs. He fell against the railing, panting. He would make it. He pulled himself on the railing up to the porch.

Two feet. He could do it. He pushed himself off the railing and fell against the door, abandoning his mistreated broom. Finding the doorbell quickly, he rang it frantically. They had to be home. He had made it. They couldn't have left. He had made it.

No one was coming. He started knocking as hard as he could. They couldn't not be here. They had to be here. They had to.

"Can I help yo – oh my god, is that you, Sirius?" Remus had answered the door.

Sirius could hear James yell from upstairs, asking who it was.

The doorframe was the only thing supporting him now. "Hi, Remus. Thought I'd just pop by," he answered, voice raspy. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he collapsed. He was finally home.

_A/N: Review please! I might continue this if I get enough support. If I do, it'll show what happens to Sirius next and Remus' POV of the whole thing._

_Posted 4.3.07 _


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